A Haunting
by Dandylions
Summary: [Oneshot] Now dead, Slagar the Cruel is haunted by those he bullied, terrorized, and killed. R&R Please!


**Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing.

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**A Haunting**

Fear. That was the last thing Slagar the Cruel remembered before he stumbled into the old well of Loamhedge and fell to his death. Mind consuming, earth shaking fear. What he had been afraid of...? Everything had been going so well. He had successfully delivered another batch of slaves to Malkariss, and he had been on the verge of conquering Malkariss's kingdom. But then Matthias and those other Redwallers had to show up. He knew kidnapping a warrior's son was a bad idea. It had come back to hurt him in the form of large, crushing rocks.

But now the fear was fading away, and the rocks no longer surrounded him. Instead, a suffocating, eerie darkness had set in. All Slagar could see was a black mist. He could only be one place: The Dark Forest. The fox relaxed. The darkness of the Dark Forest seemed almost comforting after his latest ordeal. At least here he could be at peace.

"Ha! I see you've wound up here too, Slagar. Is that what you're callin' yerself nowadays?"

With a shudder of horror, Slagar turned around to face the voice he knew all too well. "Hello, Sela." He curtly greeted the vixen standing behind him.

"Yeah, you better say 'hello'. This is a fine mess you've gotten yerself into, Chickenhound." The vixen snapped.

Slagar gagged. "Honestly, mother. Couldn't you have named me somethin' other than _Chickenhound_?"

Sela resisted the urge to whack her son upside the head. "I'll name you what I want!"

"Why are you here?" Slagar snarled at Sela.

"I've come to warn you."

"Why?"

"Because your my son, as unfortunate as it is." Sela sniffed. "You're goin' to be haunted by all those who you killed, maimed, or destroyed, and it's a long list." With one last glare, Sela vanished in a puff of blue smoke.

Slagar snorted, "Haunted? I'm Slagar the Cruel! The Sly One, Lord of Mountebanks, the Lord of Double-Dealing! None can haunt me!" He shouted into the darkness. There was a loud _pop _and a cloud of red smoke appeared.

Slagar squinted, trying to make out the shape of the figure in the smoke. As it cleared, it became obvious that the figure was a old mouse. The Sly One recognized that old mouse. He killed him long ago. It had been an accident, but that murder had started the whole war that had waged between Slagar and the Redwallers for many seasons. It was Methuselah.

"Hello, old one." Slagar sneered. Methuselah calmly took off his spectacles and wiped them on his tunic.

"Good afternoon, Chickenhound. Have you had a nice life?" The old mouse asked casually.

"Ha! Don't think you can make me feel guilty about what I've done..." Slagar snarled.

"I cannot expect an evil heart like yours to understand something as pure as forgiveness." Methuselah said.

"Are you saying that you forgive me for smashing your head in?" Slagar laughed. "That's good, that's real good."

Old Methuselah shook his head sadly. "I was old. I would have died soon anyways. But not all are going to see things like I do, Chickenhound."

"My name isn't Chickenhound. I changed it to Slagar the Cruel seasons ago. It suits me much more than _Chickenhound_." Slagar snarled.

"Yes, it does suit you." Methuselah agreed. "It portrays your true personality quiet well."

Slagar laughed. Methuselah continued, "From the day you came into our Abbey I knew you were cunning and evil, but I never knew that you would kill so many creatures and destroy so many lives. Like poor Hairbelly."

"Who?"

"Hairbelly. One of your slavers. He was weasel if I'm correct..." The old mouse stated.

"Hairbelly was a useless fool! I was better off with out him!" Slagar spat angrily.

Methuselah sighed and shook his head. The ancient mouse clapped his old, withered paws together twice. Their was another puff of red smoke and a weasel with a goofy grin stamped on his face appeared beside Methuselah. It was Hairbelly; the unfortunate weasel was still dressed as a balancer, red nose and all.

"Afternoon, Chief!" Hairbelly greeted. "How'd the slave tradin' go?"

Slagar pointed to his transparent body, "Ho do you think it went, you fool. I'm dead!"

"Aye, now you know how I feel!" Hairbelly moaned. "I just wanted ter be somethin' other than a balancer an' you killed me. Why Chief?"

"Because you were a useless fool! All you ever did was complain." Slagar explained snidely.

"Just cause I was a little slower than Threeclaws an' the others wasn't a good reason ter run me through wit a sword, Chief!" Hairbelly cried, "Because o' you, I never got ter see another sunset or eat another meal or-"

"Shut your over-sized mouth for once in your miserable life Hairbelly! I see that I should've done away with you sooner." Slagar said with a sneer. Methuselah gave Hairbelly a sympathetic pat on the shoulder, and the weasel vanished in a cloud of blue smoke.

"Poor Hairbelly. He wasn't a bad creature. He could of had a good life, but you took it away from him, Slagar." Methuselah said dryly as he took off his crystal spectacles to clean them again. "There's two more creatures who want to speak with you."

Two clouds of red smoke, identical to the cloud that Hairbelly had arrived in, appeared on either side of Methuselah. One cloud contained a fat mouse holding a dock leaf in his tail, and the other was a motherly looking bankvole. "Slagar," Methuselah said as he motioned to the two woodlanders, "I'm sure you remember Friar Hugo and Mrs. Lettie Bankvole. The night that you came to Redwall they were too busy to drink anything so when you made your escape, they tried to stop you, but you killed them!" Methuselah's voice trembled as he spoke.

Mrs. Lettie Bankvole, still wearing the same outfit she wore when she Slagar murdered her, stepped forward. Her eyes, normally filled with love and compassion were now cold and filled with hatred. "You cruel, heartless fox!" She shouted, "I had an infant son to take care of. You killed me just because I was in your way! I hope you rot here forever."

Slagar opened his mouth to speak, but before he could get the words out, Mrs. Lettie Bankvole vanished with a loud, angry _pop. _

Methuselah casually folded his arms and stared at Slagar. "Mrs. Lettie Bankvole was a mother. Now, because of you, her son will grow up never knowing his mother. You've destroyed a family Slagar."

The fox sneered. Friar Hugo stepped forward. "I was good friar. I never wanted to hurt anybody. Everyday, I made food for everybody at Redwall, but then you killed me. Now I can never cook again..." The fat friar trailed off before vanishing in a similar way to Lettie.

"Poor, poor Hugo." Methuselah said sadly, "He was loved by everyone at Redwall. He shall be remembered for many seasons."

From behind his silken hood, Slagar glared at Methuselah. "Anyone else you want me to see. I already now how much everyone hated me, Old One. Your just wasting your time." The fox sneered.

"Perhaps I am," Methuselah responded coolly, "but perhaps you will see how much destruction you have caused."

Slagar let out a raucous laugh, "I know how much destruction I've caused. I don't need you to show me! Go now old mouse, and leave me in peace!"

"Very well," Methuselah said curtly, "I'll go, but this is far from over Slagar..." The old mouse's words echoed in the darkness as he vanished in a cloud of blue smoke.

"Ha, whatever you say, you old buffoon." Slagar wheezed as he settled back onto his haunches. "At least now I can be in peace." The hooded fox close his eyes and curled up on the cool ground.

Several moments later, he was awakened by a harsh kick to the side. His eyes flew open, and he instinctively reached out to grab his attacker. He felt nothing however, and he stood up to look around. "Hello Chief."

Slagar whirled around to face the voice. Standing in front of him was Wedgeback, the stoat Slagar had thrown off of a cliff. The sly fox recoiled at the sight of his former slaver. The stoat's body was mangled and his limbs were tattered and broken. The back of his skull was smashed in, a reminiscent of his horrible death. "Remember me?" Wedgeback said, cracking the dry blood around his mouth. "You tossed me off o' a cliff jus' because you thought that I let the slaves escape."

"You did..." Slagar snarled. He was feeling it again, deep in his gut. Fear.

Wedgeback laughed grotesquely. "So what? They came back. But did you forgive me? No. Slagar the Cruel is too great to forgive anyone. You led us all to death!" Wedgeback laughed insanely. "Hairbelly, Drynose, Damper, Vitch, Halftail, Scringe, Bageye, Browntooth, and Badrag." As Wedgeback said each slaver's name, they appeared in a cloud of blood red smoke.

"Hello, Chief." Each one said simultaneously as they circled Slagar.

"Get away from me!" From the fox snarled as his former slave band closed in on him. "I'm your leader!"

"What kind o' leader kills an' tricks his slavers?" Halftail asked rhetorically.

"You ain't no leader." Damper said. "You let those rats slaughter me." The weasel moaned.

"You 'ide behind a mask." Scringe hissed, "Yer too afraid to show yer face."

Slagar backed away from the angry slavers. "Stop at once! I command you!"

The slavers laughed and lunged for their former master. Slagar shrieked in terror as claws and teeth tore at his silk hood. "Leave me alone! Stop!" Terror gripped his heart as he struggled to free himself from the ferrets, weasels, stoats, and rat that clawed at him. The fox could feel the hood slid off his hidiously scarred face.

"Show everyone wot you really look like." Halftail hissed.

"Yer a disgrace, Chief." Browntooth grumbled.

"Because of you, we'll rot in the Dark Forest forever!" Bageye complained.

"But at least now, you kin rot here with us!" Drynose shouted.

Slagar shrieked as he tried to pull away. He had feared no creature until his dying day, but now terror tore at his fur, it ripped him to peices, it drove him mad. He should have listened to Methuselah. He should not have mocked the old mouse. Perhaps he could have been saved, but now his screams echoed through the Dark Forest, bringing pleasure and satisfaction to the slavers that haunted him. Forever they would haunt him, eerie reminicescents of the evil life he had lived. Slagar the Cruel would be eternally haunted.

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**Alright, I'm kind of nervous about this so I'd appreciate it if you didn't flame me. Please review and tell me what you thought.**


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